“And risk having some religious monument encroaching,” I said.
Sunaria neared Marcus’ chair. “Then we buy the land from them.”
“Do I have to take care of it myself?” I shook my head.
Marcus leaned back and stared up at Sunaria.
Recently, I’d noticed that I blinked less, the subtle response that broke the intensity of one’s stare. With my gaze locked on Sunaria now, I saw the reaction evoked by such a stare. “Darling, how about you? Fancy a trip out?”
Sunaria turned away and Marcus studied his fingernails.
“Turns out being seduced by three whores is considered an affair.” I found myself smiling.
“You need some fresh air.” Her gaze flitted from me to Marcus.
“What do you think, Marcus?” I smiled.
He reached for the book, but I grabbed it and dragged it to the edge of the desk and it fell, landing with a thud.
“Perhaps we should discuss this another time,” Marcus suggested.
“Why not invite Mr. Lewis here?” I said. “Sunaria can be very persuadable.”
Marcus rose. “I should be going.”
“Sit down,” I snapped.
Marcus did so, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
My stare forced him to look away.
“Sunaria, pay the old man a visit.”
She glared at me. Purposely, my expression blank, I replied with silence, and she headed for the door.
“I expect you back by ten.” I squinted her way. “With the deeds to his house.”
Sunaria’s hand rested on the doorknob, her back to the room. “And if I’m not?”
“I’ve seen your dark side. I know what you’re capable of.” I reached into my jacket and withdrew my pocket watch. “And I know you like it.” I flipped open the hunter-case to check the time.
She twisted the handle, slowly. “I won’t do it.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
From Marcus’ expression, he’d picked up that the quiet was due to my berating Sunaria with unspoken words.
She spun round and in a flash grabbed the book off the floor and threw it at me. My laughter followed her out.
* * * *
So engrossed in reading, I hardly noticed Sunaria standing before me with the folded parchment in her hand. She’d just returned from her visit to Mr. Lewis’.
“Put it there.” I pointed to the desk.
She’d donned her favorite dress, a red silk gown. I liked her in it, the daring color a refreshing change from her usual black.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Her eyes widened.
“Did he sign it?”
“He did.”
I shrugged.
She dropped the paper onto the desk and I slid it beside the others. Her lips quivered, a welcome sign that she neared breaking. Taking my time, I admired her low neckline, the curve of her bodice, the taut luster of the material, the silk clinging to her small waist, emphasizing her litheness.
Pushing back my chair, I joined Sunaria on the other side of the desk. Standing close I traced her spine, running my fingers up and down it and then nestled into her nape, kissing her tenderly.
Sunaria responded.
My left arm wrapped around her waist, my right pushed her forward, bending her over the desk. She used her hands to support herself, though I had her. Sunaria’s dark locks cascaded over her bare shoulders and face.
She sighed.
I let go and grabbed her dark locks and pulled her up and toward me, whispering, “How did you get him to sign it?”
“I’ve always been loyal to you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I told him that another orphanage would be built on his land and that something wonderful would come of him selling his property,” she said.
“And then you paid him one hundred pounds?”
Sunaria spun round. “You now own more property than any other businessman in London.”
“That wasn’t the sum we discussed.”
“Long term, it was worth it.”
“Orphanage? That’ll be the fifth.”
“The only good thing you’ve ever done,” she snapped.
My mind drifted to the work houses, and their undernourished children, with dark circled, wide-eyed stares that had stayed on us as we’d trekked through, searching for Jacob. I’d promised myself that I’d come back for them. Years later, when the hours I’d spent searching for Jacob were mine again, I’d made that pledge a reality. Though those children had long grown up, we saved the ones who’d replaced them. A perpetual cycle, society’s darkest side, rarely spoken of.
Perhaps this endeavor also helped me to hold onto my essential goodness. The sweetest lie that I kept telling myself.
Sunaria tried to pull away.
“Why don’t you leave me?” I drew in a sharp breath.
“What?”
“All these years you’ve stayed, but I’m not the man I was.”
“I love you.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“For the first time in decades, I like myself again.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Time changes everything. Our hearts harden as we try to cope with all that life brings. But a fresh perspective . . .”
“Fresh blood.” I smirked.
Her attention shifted for a moment, then settled back on me.
“I’m not that man anymore.” I sighed.
“I see such good in you.”
Deep in thought, I tried to tap into those old feelings and with my outstretched hand, I traced an invisible line. “It’s this close.”
“What is?”
“It brushes against me, luring me.”
“Orpheus?”
Staring at her, a real sense that she might be the only thing holding me back from this looming faceless entity, tempted me to walk the path of least resistance, and surrender.
“To what?” Sunaria uttered nervously, having read my thoughts.
The weather had turned. Rain pelted the tin rooftops, soaking the street sellers and their miserable customers.
Strange how alone I felt.
I turned Sunaria around and leaned her forward over the desk again. I felt her push back, a moan escaping her, as she clutched the edge of the desk tighter.
Whispering into her ear, “I lied about the whores.”
She let out a deep sigh.
“I’ll make it up to you.” I raised the hem of her dress. “You’re the only good thing about me,” I confided, or perhaps I thought it.
I remembered the time she’d offered me eternity, the darkest gift.
Quietness loomed in the deserted courtyard. No sense of balance. Intoxicating . . . soothing, a woman’s scent. “Do you choose life?”
My mind drifted back into the room. “I chose you.”
Sunaria, my supernatural maker, imperious mistress and flawless lover. The exquisite pleasure she brought was the finest escape. This one truth we shared, unraveling within timelessness itself as I promised her not with words but with affection that I’d never leave her and that I’d always love her.
* * * *
“You’re the only thing holding me back.” I gazed at her.
“Back from where?” she asked, her voice low.
My eyes glazed over as I considered whether to concede to its pull, seemingly full of promise. I raised my hand, declining the affection she offered.
“But you’ve felt that way before,” she uttered.
She wasn’t getting it.
I approached the window and stared out over the soaked roof tops. Drenched people below scurried along, unaware that on the very edge of their world lay ours. Sunaria joined me and peered out.
I gave a crooked smile. “I’ve been thinking of going to Salisbury.”
Her aversion was instant. She slapped me.
A flash of pain on my left cheek, a
residual stinging, and it felt good. She’d left a mark. I smiled and rubbed my jaw. “Did I say Salisbury? I meant Spain.”
Sunaria let out a sob. “Don’t.”
I ran my fingers affectionately through her silky locks. “I’ve been considering your idea.”
“Converting Belshazzar’s into a private club?” Her eyelids flickered in response to my touch.
“We can lure in affluent businessmen and politicians.”
She fell against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Please tell me this isn’t another one of your games?”
“Marcus can run it. He’s expressed an interest in managing a gentleman’s club. He believes we can establish a prestigious bedrock.”
Sunaria nuzzled in further. “Keep our enemies close.”
“We’ll be at the very center of society’s advances.”
Turning this place over to Marcus would be the final step in letting Jacob go, though I was not sure that such a thing was even possible. The idea of lessening the anguish was comforting, but the notion of this inner pain dissipating brought with it guilt that I was betraying him.
“We can refurbish.” Sunaria tried to calm my rambling thoughts by changing the subject.
“Not this wing. It mustn’t be touched.”
“You’re not planning on staying to see your plan through, are you?”
“I’m done with London.” I pushed her away and sauntered over to the desk.
“Orpheus?” Wary of me, her tone was timid.
“We leave tomorrow.” I waved her out of the room. “Tell Marcus I want to see him.”
Chapter 57
SPAIN HAD NOT FORSAKEN ME.
She greeted us with glorious, vibrant landscapes, the freshest breeze, and the friendliest Latin faces. I had to hold back my tears of relief at returning to my homeland, for fear of drawing attention.
My feelings were soured. Having long ago dreamed that I’d one day return with Jacob, I had a real sense that we’d both been robbed. My chest wrenched with grief. Sunaria squeezed my hand, aware of my anguish, and with a nod, I acknowledged my appreciation.
Marcus had argued with me when I’d told him my plans. He’d been heartbroken. I’d stood before him silent, stone-faced, waiting for him to finish beseeching me to stay. He’d eventually agreed to remain behind and continue to take care of all our business dealings. Marcus’ expression that evening never wavered from memory, his words still resonated. “Promise you’ll come back to me,” he’d begged.
I vowed that I would, though even as I spoke those very words, I wasn’t sure such a promise would ever be realized. London offered nothing but the saddest of memories, the deepest pain.
The future beckoned.
With no business dealings to keep me occupied, having left Marcus to initiate the transformation of Belshazzar’s, my time became wrapped up in Sunaria and she loved the attention.
Settling into a modestly decorated, desolate château overlooking the ocean, we took our time to acclimatize. Before we ventured into the heart of the country, we wanted to get a feel for the societal changes that had unfolded since our departure. Taking our time, we gauged the mood of the people, researching how far they’d advanced with their knowledge of the undead. Catholics were known to burn the accused, whether they’d actually sinned or not. With our affected accents, we’d stand out. A foreigner with a strange inflection could alarm even the most passive of villagers. Not that the thought of a man chasing me with a burning torch made me nervous. The disruption to my evening would be more of an annoyance. Not so for Sunaria, who insisted that we sleep in coffins again for the first three weeks upon our arrival, until I persuaded her otherwise.
Discreetly, we tried to ascertain how many night walkers were in the province, those who slept by day and withdrew at sunset, eager to play all night. We wanted to keep a low profile.
After an entire night of seeking out new pleasures with Sunaria, we returned to the château. Sunaria had teased me all evening. We made it home with an hour to spare before sunrise.
I had my revenge before the fireplace in the great hall.
After wrestling with each other, each vying for control, I managed to restrain her, binding both her hands behind her with a silk sash that I’d found. She lay prone, perfectly vulnerable on the silken rug.
Starting at her ankles, I planted kisses there and then moved upward, driving her into a frenzy, her well deserved punishment, giving her no choice but to submit. I left her lying there, unsated and desperate for me to finish, her hands still secured, her movement restricted.
I withdrew from the house, strolling along the neglected pathway, hoping to free my mind while all the time imprisoning hers.
The sea air stung my nostrils and the cool air cleared my mind. Over the grassy bank, waves buffeted the golden shoreline. The swell of the sea was a continuous rhythm, inducing a soporific sensation. Foam sprayed up onto the beach and several birds flew along the horizon.
Coming home to Spain was one of my better decisions.
I liked it here.
After several minutes, I returned to the house.
Sunaria’s turquoise stare begged me to resume. I wondered how long I could just stand over her, full of desire. Pleasure before the pleasure . . .
* * * *
Outside the wind howled as though jealous of the lovers inside who tumbled daringly close to the hearth. Sunaria’s head fell back and her tussled locks cascaded over her flushed face.
Daylight loomed.
“You’re my everything,” I whispered.
The fire crackled in the hearth and an oak aroma lingered. The lapping of the ocean lulled us.
This was the longest that I’d ever held her gaze. “Do you miss London?”
“What does London have that Spain doesn’t?” She sighed.
“Endless rain.”
Sunaria’s laughter rippled.
“How do you remember it all?” she asked.
I shrugged.
Her inquisitive stare pierced me. “Why do you refuse to talk about the past?”
“Some memories, I choose to forget.”
“The pain fades,” she whispered.
“What if I don’t want it to?”
A soft smile curled her lips. “So you hold onto the pain and forget the cause?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“To survive eternity?”
“To exist.” Now I smiled.
Sunaria rose and pulled my black cloak around her shoulders. “I don’t have your sense of danger.” She pointed at the window and headed for the door.
Leaning up on both elbows, I glimpsed the ocean. The sun threatened to cast its colors upon it. I jumped up and dressed.
I froze.
An envelope lay on the maple table. I ripped open the seal. We’d been summoned to a local vampire’s coven.
Apparently, Sunaria and I resided in the very center of a lair.
* * * *
We ignored the dubious invitation, enjoying our own company instead, preferring to visit old haunts, and finally put old ghosts to rest.
We traveled to Nuevo Portil by carriage. Years had changed the city, and the population had increased. Having ridden along this pathway several times, we now saw new home after new home. The Ocean View Manor was no longer there.
Close by, we found a well tended churchyard. It took us very little time to find Alicia’s grave. Ricardo, her son, had been buried next to her. Their tombstones were the only mark of their lives, and a dragging regret for leaving her came out of nowhere. We found no grave with Miranda’s name on it. I gave a smile, considering that she’d probably searched out another nightwalker and persuaded him, or her, to transform her.
Sunaria left me kneeling before Alicia’s tombstone, and I tried to convey feelings that I no longer felt, honoring my sister with my fondest memories of her. Alicia would have wondered what had happened to us. I’d written to her, but had never gone through with actually sending the missives I�
�d penned. I hoped the rest of her life had been easier.
Shaking off the melancholy, I rejoined Sunaria. She was lounging upon an old grey mausoleum, and with her black locks dangling over the side, she appeared like a dark goddess, here to guide the newly deceased, not into heaven and not even to hell, but somewhere else, somewhere forbidden.
Leisurely, she lifted her head and raised an eyebrow.
She slid off the monument and together we strolled through the graveyard. I looked forward to sharing new luscious delights with her, an array of thrills.
She stared up at me with a glint of something indeterminable in her expression and her hand took mine. I felt her slide something onto my ring finger. I gazed down at the gold band.
“The mark of ownership.” Her voice was low, sultry.
I went to respond, and then felt that familiar craving capturing me, as her words lingered. Only in silence could the sensations be best appreciated.
Chapter 58
1789
DECADES UNFOLD AS EASILY as ripples on a pond and just as fleeting.
Eternity, the perfect promise.
As though in a warped time zone, people and places transform. We, however, remain unaffected. Time advanced, though for us stasis was a given.
To ease my adjustment, Sunaria encouraged frequent moves to new provinces, her belief being that such would provide the subtle illusion that one had merely changed to a more progressive town, though the world evolved.
Falling back into the leisurely pace of life had been easy. Removing myself from the tediousness of residing in a frenetic city, immersing myself in solitude, rediscovering old pleasures found in literature, music, language, and art, and finally allowing what little was left of the man within to reawaken.
A personal renaissance.
Preferring coastal life, taking solace in long walks barefoot along golden sandy beaches, beneath starlit skies, I stilled that inner, unquiet voice. Evoking the delusion that I wasn’t really alone, and that somehow, God might find a way to forgive me, and I him.
Even at night, midsummer’s warmth lingered, and a gentle breeze carried that sweet, salty scent of the blue-green ocean.
Standing precariously close to the edge of the cliff, admiring the rocky shoreline, the crescent moon reflected sunlight off its grey-silver orb. I’d never been one for sunsets, at least that’s what I told myself.
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